


Like father, like daughter

by macabre_monkey



Category: The Last Herald Mage, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre_monkey/pseuds/macabre_monkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jisa can be just as stubborn as her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like father, like daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, I'm retconning canon again. I started this because the idea of Vanyel giving Jisa a makeover was too fun not to write, and then it became more of a serious fic, and I have the feeling that there is probably more, I just don’t know it yet.

_:Jisa, sweetling, you are_ fourteen _years old. Which is_ far _too old to be running around the palace dressed like a stable hand. Due to the current circumstances, I’m afraid we’ve been lax in your upbringing, but it’s time,_ more _than time, for you to begin to take your place in the Court.:_

Jisa’s mouth was set in a sullen frown the whole time Vanyel lectured her. _Lord and Lady, how can it be so hard to believe I sired her, and so damn obvious at the same time?_ There wasn’t so much resemblance between them as such, but the set of her jaw and the way her brows furrowed when she was obviously trying to control her temper was very reminiscent of Van.

 _:I don’t understand why it matters how I dress or act,:_ she remarked crossly. _:I’m a bastard, so I’ll never inherit the crown, and besides, I’m going to be King’s Own one day. Why do I have to waste my time being a courtier?:_

Vanyel heaved a purely internal sigh. _Gods, if this is really how I acted when I was her age, it’s a miracle I survived to adulthood._

 _:Because, Jisa, legitimate or not, you are still the king’s daughter. There are expectations placed on you—and I don’t want to hear one word out of you about that not being fair—and the way you conduct yourself is a reflection not_ only _of yourself, but of your parents and the entire kingdom. You are the_ only _daughter of the royal house. It’s time to start acting—and dressing—like it. Like it or not, appearances matter; there are delegates in the Court right now from kingdoms we hope to gain as allies, and what will they think, seeing you dressed so plainly and acting without Courtly manners? That if Randale treats his own child so poorly, he surely won’t treat his allies any better. And besides which, none of us know when you’ll be Chosen; gods willing, it could be another twenty or thirty years.:_

She sighed dramatically. _:Why can’t one of the other Companions Choose me until Taver is ready to?:_ she complained.

 _:Because the Companions have better things to do, and_ this is not a discussion _. I’ve already sent for a tailor; be in the parlor in the royal suite by midmorning tomorrow for your fitting.:_

She clenched her teeth and clearly wanted to continue arguing the point, but no doubt her Empathy was telling her that she had no chance of swaying him, and that she’d already pushed Vanyel to the edge of his patience. So she bowed stiffly—bowed, instead of a proper curtsey, and gods, she may have decided to go along with this, but she wasn’t going to make it easy—and turned on her heels and stalked out the door, not quite slamming it closed.

 _:Remind me again why I’m doing this?_ : he asked Yfandes plaintively.

 _:It’s your comeuppance,:_ she replied. _:Now you know what I had to deal with when I first Chose you.:_

He groaned mentally. _:You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?:_

 _:Immensely,:_ she replied cheerfully. _:Like father, like daughter.:_

 _:One day, I_ swear _I’m replacing you with a bondbird,:_ he said with conviction.

All she sent in reply was bubbly laughter.

The next morning Savil surprised him by being in the parlor before he was; Yfandes told her via Kellen what was going on. She appeared to be _commiserating_ with Jisa when he walked in, the old bat, and she was clearly just as invested in seeing Van get his “comeuppance” as Yfandes.

And the entire affair proved to be as big a disaster as he anticipated. Nothing pleased Jisa, not the cloth, not the colors, not the patterns.

On choosing fabrics: “How in the world can it be _too soft_ , Jisa?”

“It just _is_!”

Looking through the book of patterns: “How am I supposed to be able to walk in that?”

While the long suffering tailor was taking her measurements: “I feel like a roast being tied up with butcher’s twine.” And on and on.

Finally Vanyel had enough. He knew how it felt to be forced into a role you didn’t want or feel ready for, and gods knew he hated to put Jisa through this, and would have been happy to let her play the hoyden all she liked under less dire circumstances, but by the gods, none of them had a choice, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough to deal with.

“That’s quite enough from you, young lady,” he said, firmly. He turned to the tailor. “Do you have all the measurements you need?”

The man nodded. “Yes, Herald, this should do.”

“Good. Jisa, we’ve run later than I anticipated; if you don’t leave now, you’ll be late for your Gift training with Healer Soren.”

Jisa, scowling, bowed shortly to Van and Savil, and even the bemused tailor, and walked stiffly out the door, the picture of affronted dignity.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Savil began cackling, and sent in private thoughtspeech, _:Blessed Star Eyed, Van, there may not be much superficial resemblance between you two, but she is the very_ image _of you at that age when you were in a snit. You two deserve each other!:_

The tailor gave him a conspiratorial wink, and said, “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, sir.”

Vanyel couldn’t help but smile and shake his head ruefully. “I suppose I do.” He took a deep breath. “Now, let’s go over these patterns again, shall we?”


End file.
